


Unknown Caller

by AvoidingAverage



Series: Cops and Robbers [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cop Geralt, Crack, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Geralt is so done, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Humor, Jaskier is a little shit, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, So is Yennefer, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, roach is a dog, thief jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvoidingAverage/pseuds/AvoidingAverage
Summary: The phone flared to life in his hand and began to play a loud pop song.‘I love myself, I want you to love me.When I feel down, I want you above me.’Geralt stared down at the phone in horror as it continued to play a loud, synthetic pop song.‘I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I touch mys--”Before the song could continue, Geralt flipped it open and shoved it to his ear.  “Who the fuck is this?”Beneath him, the world seemed to tilt oddly when a smooth, slightly accented voice purred in his ear,“Hello, Geralt.  Miss me?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Cops and Robbers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650430
Comments: 32
Kudos: 722





	Unknown Caller

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering what happened after Jaskier left and where the infamous pillow came from, I humbly offer this. I apologize for any typos--I wrote this in a caffeine fueled daze.
> 
> Enjoy ;)

If Geralt saw another frilly pillow, he was going to murder someone.

Probably Yennefer. 

He glared down at the current ruffled monstrosity carefully draped across his driver’s side seat and bared his teeth.  _ Definitely _ Yennefer.

In the week since The Incident, his reputation as an untouchable and openly grumpy member of the police force had taken several fatal blows. 

The first was, of course, having to wait in that fucking closet until his damn partner could get off her ridiculously attractive ass to come get him. Yennefer had been sure to be the first to unlock the door and gracefully settle against the frame so she could watch him scowl at her from the floor. 

(If he looked very closely, he could see the evidence of her mad scramble to get here once the call had been made about the attack, but it was obvious that seeing Geralt whole and healthy had chased away any of her concerns.)

“My, my,” she’d purred, “you seem to have enjoyed yourself.”

He’d rolled his eyes and gestured to the rope cuffs that he’d only managed to pull tighter in the hour or so he’d been waiting.

Which led to the second and most problematic element of the story.

As soon as Yennefer moved around to untie him, the pillow came into view.

* * *

Now, Yennefer was an excellent partner. 

Once they’d gotten over the physical pull toward each other, they’d discovered just how well they worked together and cemented themselves as one of the best performing teams in the state. Their bond was forged in blood and struggle--unbreakable even if they wished differently. She was clever, cunning, and--unfortunately for Geralt in this moment--completely ruthless.

Seeing Geralt--bound and simmering with rage--seated somewhat majestically on top of a red velvet pillow with gaudy golden tassels had been too much for her to let quietly go.

* * *

“ _ What _ is that?” she’d asked, eyes fixed on the offending object with all the focus of a cat presented with a prey.

“A pillow,” Geralt grunted, busy rubbing circulation into his hands and wrists now that the ropes are off. He felt stiff and sore all over after the hours spent in such a cramped position.

“A pillow,” she repeated incredulously. “The robbers who tied you up and left you in this closet gave you  _ a pillow _ ?”

A hot, furious flush darkened his cheeks at the reminder of just how fucked up his night had been. “No, it was from someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“Stop repeating everything I say,” he snapped and pushed past her to walk back onto the main floor.

Already, the museum was crawling with police officers and members of the hotel management team. They were carefully going room to room with inventory lists to assess what was stolen. A few angry looking men and women in plain clothes were walking around with their hands on their hips that he guessed were part of the museum system. Most of the people were focused on a room to his left that glittered in the overhead lighting thanks to the layer of broken glass covering the ground. The sight of it made him want to growl.

This was his fault.

Yennefer nudged his shoulder with hers, offering a fresh smelling cup of coffee. He took it gratefully, some of his annoyance with her mollified by the subtle reminder that his partner would always have his back. They may not verbally acknowledge it, but they had a bond that went far deeper than most.

“So what happened?”

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose and released it in a heavy gust from his lips. “It was a setup. They came in through the employee entrance without raising any alarm--one of them was trained enough to know how to reset the security system because I didn’t see them until I ran into them when I was going on my rounds,” he reported succinctly and he waited for her to write down a few notes in her notepad before continuing.

“Four suspects, all wearing masks and in similar uniforms. At least two were armed although they were expecting me to be there. The usual night guard was down with some kind of stomach ache--we definitely need to interview him to make sure he wasn’t working with them or that they didn’t hurt him to get him out of here tonight. I was only here to do Vesemir a favor.”

“So they surprised you and left you in the closet?” 

The unspoken question was hidden in the mischievous quirk of her dark eyebrow.  _ Who stopped a robbery to give you a pillow? _

He gritted his teeth and did not think about a warm, firm body pressed against his in the dark. “There was another...thief,” he said roughly, still bitter. “He must have been planning to lift something small and planned it the same night as the other group. They’d already caught him by the time I came in.”

Yennefer frowned, looking intrigued. “How did he escape and not you?”   
  


Geralt counted to ten in his head before he answered.

“He convinced me to let him go. I didn’t know he was a thief too until after.”

There was a beat of silence before Yennefer burst into peals of laughter. Her shoulders shook and all sense of professionalism disappeared as she laughed at the combination of the story and Geralt’s disgruntled face.

A rookie cop Geralt recognized from around the precinct came over and offered Geralt a clipboard with several documents and watched Yennefer curiously. He flushed when Geralt raised an eyebrow at him and hastily explained, “This is a list of what they think is missing so far.”

Flipping through the pages, he glanced over the manifest thoughtfully. Most of what was taken was expected--a few small jewels that would be easy to hock and several paintings that were small enough to carry easily and worth enough to pay off all the members of the team handsomely. The trick to any good heist was finding valuable objects that were rare enough to fetch a good price, but unobtrusive enough to not to be easy for the police to track. That they had achieved this cemented Geralt’s theory that the group of robbers had been planning this for some time.

After several minutes of him pointedly ignoring her hysterics, Yennefer moved closer to read over his shoulder and wiped the tears from her eyes. She tapped the paper and made a triumphant sound. “At least we can tell what your thief took--look.”

Her finger circled the one oddity on the list.

A fucking lute.

Who steals a medieval instrument when there were jewels a few displays over?

He glanced at the description and frowned. “Looks like it’s worth around 50k, but it doesn’t fit the pattern of the other objects. It’s too bulky and noticeable to hock easily. So why take it?”

Yennefer looked a little thoughtful before she turned away from him.

“Hey, Jonesy!” she called to one of the cops circling the area, “that display you were looking at with the lute wouldn’t happen to be missing a pillow, would it?”

Geralt bit back a growl and stomped towards the door.

This could not get any worse.

* * *

It did.

* * *

Two weeks after The Incident and Geralt was still fishing pillows out of his locker nearly every day or from his car when Yennefer managed to sneak his keys out of his pocket. The same rookies who used to scurry out of sight when he walked through the precinct now lazed around with shit-eating grins when they saw him. Hell, he’d even caught a few perps giving him side eye.

If this kept up, he might have to murder someone to get his reputation back in order.

And he knew just who his victim would be.

Jaskier.

The thief had somehow managed to disappear into the ether. There was no record of any Jaskier according to any of Geralt’s usual leads and none of the security footage from the robbery had been useless. Nothing but the outline of a tall, lean man slipping out of the building as casually as someone heading home after a long day. That was bad enough, but the slight turn towards the light that was enough to illuminate the wicked smirk on full lips and the lazy salute to the camera was enough to grind Geralt’s molars into dust.

It didn’t help that the robbery case was being handled by one of the most insufferable man on the force. Davidson was every bad cliche a cop could be--cocky, overbearing, and unwilling to admit that he was way out of his depth with this case. He had been content to pass it off as just another smash and grab robbery despite all the evidence that the team had knowledge and planning on their side. 

So, Geralt had found himself spending most of his free time chasing down the few leads they’d managed to uncover with little success. The night guard he’d replaced had been found in his apartment, stiff and cold thanks to a lethal overdose of a slow moving toxin in his veins. Vesemir and his security team had uncovered enough security information passed through the dead man’s terminal to indicate that he was a part of the robbery, at least initially. 

The working theory was that the guard had worked with the robbers from the inside, giving them the information on the alarm system and the inventory that they needed. Something must have changed in their arrangement closer to the deadline for their hit and the rest of the team chose to kill him instead of splitting the profits between all of them. So they poison their weak link, make the hit, and run.

It would have been flawless if it weren’t for Geralt and the other thief who’d chosen the same night to stage his own robbery.

Geralt tucked the pile of files and lists of names he would spend the rest of the night tracking down under one arm and fished out his keys. He could hear the soft click of Roach’s paws on the hardwood floor coming closer as he shouldered the door open and stepped inside his simple one bedroom apartment.

“Hey, girl,” he muttered as he tossed his keys down on an empty space on his coffee table.

Roach padded over to sniff hopefully at his hands for any treats. He huffed out a breath of a laugh when she made an annoyed sound. “You know you aren’t supposed to get snacks.”

The dog managed a decent approximation of a sneer at the reminder of the diet her vet had required after their last visit. The years of her being the top bomb dog in Afghanistan were long past and Geralt was just grateful for the chance to take his partner home with him when he finished his tour. They’d been able to help one another adjust to being civilians again. Geralt wasn’t sure how he would have coped without Roach’s doggy grin greeting him at the end of the day.

Unfortunately, that had led to Roach getting a little...fluffier...than truly necessary.

He reached out to run a hand over her greying muzzle and smiled when she turned away with a huff at the lingering traces of the chinese takeout on his cuffs. “Don’t worry, girl,” he said as he set the rest of the files onto his already messy couch, “I’ve got some carrots for you.”

Roach made a disgusted grunt.

Still smiling a little at her obvious displeasure at the healthy snacks he offered, Geralt toed off his shoes and padded into his bedroom to get out of his uniform. When he stepped into the doorway, he froze.

There, on the center of his bed, was a phone.

Geralt’s gun was in his hand before his next heartbeat and he pressed his back against the door as he scanned his space. He made a sharp gesture towards Roach that had he coming to heel at his side with a growl. Together, they padded forward and began to clear his apartment. Even when he finally had to admit that there was no one here, Geralt couldn’t seem to relax.

Someone had broken into his  _ home _ .

He turned to glare at Roach, “You’re supposed to be a  _ guard _ dog.” 

She ignored home and walked over to the large dog bed in the corner and flopped down with a huff. Apparently all of the females in his life were conspiring against him.

Clicking the safety off his glock, Geralt walked over to the windows to close the curtains before he picked up the phone. It was a simple flip phone, no markings or indications of where it was bought. He knew from experience tracking down a phone or who bought it was next to impossible. 

Aside from the phone, his apartment was immaculate. There were no broken locks or windows to show how the intruder had gotten inside. Roach clearly hadn’t been bothered by the unexpected visitor. Whoever it was must have been fully prepared to make their way inside and face down a potentially aggressive German Shepherd. He glanced over at his case files with a frown--nothing appeared to be out of order or missing.

So why would someone break into his apartment to just leave him a phone most commonly used by drug dealers?

As if in answer to that thought, the phone flared to life in his hand and began to play a loud pop song. 

_ ‘I love myself, I want you to love me. _

_ When I feel down, I want you above me.’ _

Geralt stared down at the phone in horror as it continued to play a loud, synthetic pop song.

_ ‘I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I touch mys--” _

Before the song could continue, Geralt flipped it open and shoved it to his ear. “Who the fuck is this?”

Beneath him, the world seemed to tilt oddly when a smooth, slightly accented voice purred in his ear, 

“Hello, Geralt. Miss me?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Next up: Geralt finally sees Jaskier's face.


End file.
